The Graces

There's a song by Supergrass called "Grace," which reminds me so much of those kids we all knew growing up, who came into our lives so briefly, who fascinated and terrified us with their moxie and bravado. Who had all the records your parents wouldn't let you have. Who said the bad words you wish you could say, and said them with the ease and smoothness you wish you had. Who knew all the dirty little childhood ditties that started with "Tra la la BOOM dee ay." Whose parents wouldn't yell for them to come home when the streetlights came on. The Graces were outspoken, loud, a little bossy and very popular. They were the kids who challenged you to Truth or Dare at slumber parties, and the kids who made a slumber party a hit.

The Grace families might have moved into the neighborhood for just a brief time. And when you visited their houses, there was an air of rootlessness, as if their sofas and wall clocks were ready to jump in the moving van at any minute. Which was the antithesis of the anchored bedframes and dressers of your own home. Parents eyed the Graces warily, wondering if this was the kid that was going to shake their own children down, take them to a dimly lit park to sip a can of stolen Budweiser and listen to satanic music.

While we as kids silently worshiped the Graces of our childhood, we would realize in later years that beneath their bold statements and gestures there was a crack of loneliness and fatigue. Most of my Graces ended up pregnant in high school, dropping out. Yet we all felt a small thrill for them (though we snickered at their circumstances) because they seemed so worldly, so adult -- like Patti in Rod Stewart's "Young Turks." Living on their own terms.

Jenny Irwin was one of my Graces. She was a year or two older, lived with her significantly older grandparents. The circumstances surrounding her parents were unspoken, mysterious. She was a little hard, rough around the edges, but her grandparents provided a nice home for her. Jenny liked to listen to Journey and KISS and taught me how to give "The Evil Eye." She told me about all the important things happening in society, like Ozzy Osbourne asking his audience to tear up a bunch of beagle puppies. That if you played the Rolling Stones' "Emotional Rescue" backwards, it told you to worship satan. And that KISS really stood for "Knights In Satan's Service." I was seriously afraid of yet intrigued by Jenny. I knew I could learn something from her that might give me some cred.

The very last time I saw Jenny Irwin, my Grace numero uno, was at the shaved ice place in Carmen Plaza. She was in high school and I was in junior high. I hadn't seen her in a year. She was dressed in all black and had hot pink hair, shaved in crazy places. With her punk boyfriend parked at the curbside, she rushed in, ordered, glanced my way and said nothing to me. She ran out to the car, drove off. And that's just how it is with the Graces.